Polyrhythm
by Shagel
Summary: Wanda and Pietro are twins. And who can understand twin s desires better than his other twin?
1. Chapter 1

Wanda likes to play. No, we better say, she LOVES to play. Long sophisticated plays for their old piano, silly games on her mobile phone, her brother`s nerves, after all. Playing on Pietro`s nerves is what she does best. She knows how to arouse him or make angry less in two minutes.

Whatever they say, being twins is fucking cool. Probably, because you become an essential part of it sooner or later. Living with Pietro - is like brushing teeth in the morning or hitting a little star-amulet hanging over the entrance for luck. It seems to be such an insignificant thing, but if you don`t do that, a strange feeling of undone will torment you all day, like a splinter in your palm, little and constantly itching to scratch.

Right now Wanda knows he annoyed. Even more he is angry. She drew him away from some new console game and sent for an ice-cream at one in the morning. The only day-and-night shop is about a couple of blocks from their home. Perhaps she could go with him, put on a tiny skirt and no shoes of course, bare feet only, to tease him, sit on the back of the bike, putting arms around his waist and pressing her chest against his back as they race down the empty road in the darkness listening to the hiss of the road and sensate the intimacy of touches with bare skin. Arousal, excitement and intimacy.

But Wanda could not. After all, she wanted to make him angry just a little at least.

And while he is gone, Wanda sits down at the old piano, opens the lid and starts a metronome. She sits and looks at swinging arrow counting seconds. Regularity fascinates her making forget about everything, and then she puts her hands over the keys and starts to play. She plays without musical notes, she doesn`t need them. Clear tapping of the metronome intensifies the rhythm of the music, like a big heart, her play is not complete; it`s the only one part of the composition, quite simple one. That`s the point the beauty of it. It`s incomplete. As Wanda is now, it lacks much. The depth. Fullness. Saturation.

Wanda played with rapture, she closes eyes and surrenders to the music, and misses the moment when hot body presses against her back, and a hoarse voice says in her ear:

-Don`t stop.

She shudders and indeed freezes for a second, but Pietro already sits down on the banquette behind her, leaning closer not to lose the balance, and puts his hands on the keys next to her trembling fingers, surrounding and as if protecting from the whole world. He plays with ease, carelessly, his fingers runthe keys with the same tenderness as they run through her hair when he combs it before bedtime.

Wanda feels the heat of his body touching her back, the smell of sweat - he drove at full speed to get back as soon as possible, some light and elusive scent of the night, soaked in his skin and hair and his breath on her neck. The metronome sounds louder with every movement. Something turns on inside of her until the sound turns into a roar. It must be the blood pounding in her head, Wanda thinks, unable to concentrate.

Music turns into a sophisticated torture. Wanda is sitting on the couch, with her bare shoulders feeling the heat of his body through a sweaty T-shirt. And when Pietro presses himself into her back even closer, to reach for the first octave, she tries to stay calm, even though it is almost impossible. She misses the key and loses the rhythm.

-Put yourself together, Sis. - His breath tickles her ear. Pietro bites her earlobe gently, making her shiver. Wanda fights the urge to tilt her head back and end this damn playing the piano, but she can`t. After all, it was she who wanted to make him angry just a little.

And she plays, drumming on the keyboard as if the whole life depends on it. Pietro`s lips go down from her ear to the neck, biting the skin, leaving tiny red marks with every bite. The melody becomes louder and irregular, Wanda is shivering, feeling the temperature of her body rises. She tilts the head forward, allowing him to kiss her neck and back, knowing that it turns him on too, and he is aroused.

He plays his part. She plays her. He bites her shoulder. She allows him. He takes one hand off the keys and grabs her face, his fingers digging into her chin firmly, turning to him.

-Do not stop. - Pietro tells her and his fingers caress her cheek, returning to the keys as if nothing had happened.

Wanda gasps still feeling his touch on the face, she breathes in and out loudly, and fierce fire grows inside of her. It runs throughout the body, in the stomach and below making her cross the legs and squeeze the knees.

Everything turns into a harmony. He plays his part. She plays her. He bites her shoulder together with the beat of a metronome; she squeezes the legs, curling toes. Divine harmony.

With a strangled groan Wanda cums, shuddering. She hits the keys for the last time, as if dotting the i`s, and closes eyes. Pietro stops playing and stops the metronome, and she enjoys the silence.

-So what about the ice cream? - Pietro grabs her long hair in a ponytail, reeling at his hand, and forces to look at him. His dilated pupils are trembling in the shadows, veins are throbbing on the temple, and Wanda smells his arousal. – Do you wanna to try?


	2. Chapter 2

The most important thing in all this twincest - never cross the line. And it's not even what you think it is. The point is not to get lost in each other, or one day you`ll wake up with your hands glued to the hands of your brother so that they have grown together firmly and can`t be divided.

Wanda knows the secret of happy relationship - get under the skin, get lost inside, and then retreat. And she retreats when it`s necessary. In a sense, their relationship reminds of a never-ending dance, they are drawn to each other, thrown into a whirlpool of touches and caressing, but then diverge to take a breath, stay and assess the damage.

Sometimes they hurt each other. Sometimes even on purpose. Even average lovers can hurt each other, let alone of the twins, bound so tightly that they can hear each other`s thoughts. Wanda is teasing her brother. Pietro is teasing his sister. They deliberately hurt each other, as if testing, though partially joking.

Wanda prepares a very especially vindictive gift for Pietro`s birthday. She stands in front of their house at the driveway, leaning on a brand-new expensive black motorcycle and meets her brother with a smile.

-Well, what a useless piece of scrap metal have you brought me, Wanda? - Pietro snorts with annoyance. He knows that`s an expensive bike. Very expensive. So expensive that she to fuck with other people's brains pretty much to get it. But for him this is just a worthless piece of metal. He is faster, much faster, although light reflected from the black surface of the motorcycle, smooth and faint, fascinates him. After all, though he is a big boy, he still likes expensive toys. - If you want to ride with me, you just have to ask.

Wanda pouts lips and sticks out tongue, then she runs fingers over the seat and her black nails merge with a smooth surface. Pietro flinches, and Wanda`s image merges with the image of this black baby somewhere deep in the depths of the brain. Oh he would definitely like to be on top of it. He could even name it - Wanda.

-Oh, maybe I just want you to look a little more like normal. In public. - Wanda leans back, smiling.

-And I wish you, baby sister, to lose all your super-fucking-abilities, just for a day, and then we'll see would you like to be normal. Okay, lose your arrogance at least. - Pietro shook his head. He knows he can`t be angry at her. - Come here, baby sis. - He holds out his hands and waits for Wanda to come to him.

She moves away from the bike and comes closer, hugging his neck, calm and still with her face buried in his chest. Her scent enwraps him, moving to some absurd-happy state of mind. Pietro picks her up and carries back into the house. Wanda does not even flinch when turns out to be in the living room, Pietro seats her on dining table, his fingers caress the skin of her thighs - little patch of bare skin between the dress and stockings, and she wants to bite lip.

He disappears upstairs and returns with a box in his hands. Then opens it and draws blood-red shoes with long, thin stilettos. The spike heel is decorated with sharp vine thorns.

She will never put them on. One step - and she will meet the ground much earlier than planned.

Pietro unlaces her boots and pulls off; they fall with a loud noise, he caresses her bare feet and then puts new shoes on and buckles.

Wanda can`t retreat, so she stands off the table. These shoes are absolutely beautiful. They make her weak, dependent of the brother, clinging to his arm.

Wanda looks at Pietro, imagining her with these shoes on when she will put her legs on his shoulders.

He is much faster than the motorcycle in front of the house. She doesn`t wear things that restrain movements.

They look at each other smiling, united by this little secret, and then break into each other, frantically hugging and kissing each other. Wanda scratches his skin insatiably, nails digging into his shoulders. Pietro leaves bites, kissing her neck, and then tilts on the table.

Yes, birthday gifts - damn fucking great thing.

Especially so close to the line.


End file.
